


Show me a hero and i'll show you a tragedy

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Gen, Pre-Canon, john winchester looks crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-24
Updated: 2007-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: the boys grow up normal.





	Show me a hero and i'll show you a tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> title from "meetings with remarkable men" by Harvey Danger. For [](http://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/profile)[dragonsinger](http://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/)'s [[AU Fic-a-thon](http://dragonsinger.livejournal.com/668332.html)]: The Winchester's if they had a normal life. I'm not quite sure if this is what was wanted, but this is what sprang to mind. Quote from Season One outtakes. Beta by the wonderful [](http://micawbish.livejournal.com/profile)[micawbish](http://micawbish.livejournal.com/), who is not afraid to say 'um, no, this DOES NOT WORK' and then push me until I make it sound better.

"To tell you the truth, it got so bad, I called social services on him."  
\- Supernatural, Episode 109

Aunt Kathleen never says it, but Dean knows that sometimes she wishes that they had never come there. Well, maybe not Sam for the most part, but Dean's pretty sure she's always felt that way about him. Even if she hasn't told him, and even if her husband, Bob, just ignores them, their daughter was more than happy to tell him so.

Dean's never really gotten along with his cousin, and the only thing he likes about her is the fact that she's nine years older than him, and Sammy doesn't really remember her living with them.

Dean knows that most 22-year-olds wouldn't be living at home still, and if they were, it wasn't with their Aunt who didn't like them while they worked two jobs and took a two- year course to become a paramedic. It didn't matter to him though, because he wasn't going anywhere without Sammy, and his Aunt had made it clear from the time he'd turned 16 that if Dean ever so much as attempted to take Sam and go that she'd make it near impossible for Dean to ever see Sam again.

Dean wasn't too sure how concrete her threats were, but it didn't matter much to him. Sam wasn't happy there, but he wasn't unhappy. He had a home, a soccer team and was first in his class. Dean could put up with a lot so that Sam could have all that.

He knew that as the weeks drew closer and closer to Sam's eighteenth birthday that two things were coming. The first, and the most anticipated, were the acceptance letters to the various schools that Sam had applied to. Dean knew they'd be acceptance letters, too. No school was going to deny a kid like Sammy.

The next thing was something only Dean was waiting for. He'd never told Sammy about the letter that he'd gotten just after his eighteenth birthday, the one that was from their Dad, asking him to come to him. Told him he had things for him, that he needed his son beside him, and a bunch of bullshit that Dean was sure he'd have swallowed whole if he hadn't overheard his Aunt and Uncle for years when they talked to the social workers about them and their father.

Their Aunt was always blunt and never lied about their Dad. She told people flat out that her brother still called and tried to talk to the boys, but she'd raised them up so that they never answered the phone. As soon as he could, Dean got himself and Sam pagers, and then cell phones as soon as it was economically feasible. So no, neither of them ever answered the phone to their Dad, but it didn't mean that they didn't know when he'd called.

But Dean hadn't seen his Dad since he had just turned five and Sammy hadn't even been a year old yet. They didn't remember their Dad any more than they did their dead mother. Sometimes Dean wished his Dad had died too, because then he wouldn't have to wonder when their Dad was going to show back up and get in the middle of their lives just like they didn't need him too.

They'd both overheard their Aunt tell someone how she'd ended up with them on more than one occasion. They knew their father had pretty much gone off the deep end when their mom died, and after a few months his old business partner had called CPS because their Dad was always rambling on and on about demons and ghosts and was buying up guns and ammo like it was candy.

Dean didn't know what the truth was. He didn't think it had gone down quite like their Aunt said, because the way she always made it sound, he and Sammy were either completely neglected or nearly beat and he's pretty sure he'd remember something if that was the case, but he's not sure. His Aunt was also fond of telling people how scarred he was, how he didn't talk to anyone but Sammy until he was in the middle of first grade, and even then it was only to snarl at a kid in the park when he tried to take Sammy's toys. They'd put him into kindergarten at the normal age despite the school's reservations, and he'd done fairly well through school, even if he didn't say a word.

Sam, on the other hand, could hold a conversation by the time he was two. Dean could half remember Sam explaining to their Aunt that they didn't want to go to the zoo, telling her that last time Dean had gotten lost from them, and now he didn't want to go so he wouldn't lose Sammy again.

Sam had always been a genius, even then. Dean's grades paled in comparison to the glowing teachers' comments and straight A's in high cap classes. The only thing that anyone ever complained about was that if you said anything about one of them in front of the other, whoever had been doing the talking ended up with a bloody nose or a black eye at least. Dean had broken a kid's arm once when he'd tried to intimidate Sammy into doing his math homework. Not even a couple months later Sam didn't particularly need Dean to look after him anymore, not when he was taller than his brother and still growing.

 

One Sunday in May, Dean was standing in the middle of his and Sam's room, glancing around as he got ready to leave. Sam was at the bottom of the stairs yelling up at him, complaining about being late and how everyone else was always there before them. Dean grinned at his little brother as he came down the stairs, slipping into his leather jacket, the door to their room shut and locked behind him.

"Yeah, yeah, lets go, kid," he told Sam, ruffling his hair. Sam, who was at least 2 inches taller than him and still growing, glared down at him. Dean's grin never faltered, though.

Sam followed him out the door, bag slung over his shoulder, cleats in hand, already kitted up for the most part. He muttered a few obscenities towards Dean, but none of it had any bite, so Dean ignored it and unlocked the doors instead.

It didn't take very long to get to the field. They weren't late, thanks to Dean's driving and the maneuverability of his little pick-up. Sam tumbled out of the little Toyota, still tying his cleats.

Dean laughed ht him, locking the truck as he followed at a more sedate pace. Parents nodded to him and a few of the kids eyed him. He ignored them all.

By this point and time, none of them were surprised by this. Sam had been on the same team since kindergarten, and Dean had been to every practice and every game from day one. Once Dean got his license, he had been the one to take Sammy to and from his soccer games and practices. His Aunt and Uncle still doled out the club fees, but everything else – the cleats and shin guards and all the rest of Sam's kit - were bought by Dean. He'd heard parents on Sam's team grumble about their Aunt and Uncle's inattention every now and then and knew they all would have offered to help them out if they hadn't known the two boys would have seen it as an insult. He and Sam both pretended not to hear the quiet remarks about their guardians' lack of attention.

This game was like all the rest, except for the sense of excitement that hung over it. It was the last game that they would play as a team – by the time the fall league started, most of them would be miles away, scattered at various universities and colleges across the country. It ended in a win for Sam's team, with a score of 4 to 3. Sam had scored two of the goals from his position of left outside mid, Dean grinning at him from the sidelines.

The sky had started to darken during the game, and Dean knew it would be raining by the time they got home. As soon as his brother was off the field, he started herding him back to the truck, attempting to at least make it there before the downpour started. Sam stopped him long enough to drink down half a bottle of water as he got his things together, and again to pass a ball back to another teammate.

He tensed when a kid from the other team came towards them. "Sam?" the kid ignored Dean, or pretended to. His eyes darted towards him every few seconds though, and Dean almost smirked. His reputation from his days at their high school was still around, and he took delight in playing to it.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean only once before looking back at the other kid and ignoring his brother. Dean raised an eyebrow at that. Sam didn't often look nervous because of Dean, but that's what this was starting to look like.

"I uh," he glanced from Sam to Dean and back again. "I got that stuff for you. Jesse sent it." He handed over a packet of papers.

Sam smiled at the kid, who only nodded and took off towards the other side of the field. Dean stood still, waiting for Sam to tell him about the papers, for an explanation of his little brother's tense state.

When none was forthcoming, Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam?"

Sam smiled at him, and Dean felt himself relax. Whatever it was, if Sam was still smiling, it couldn't be too bad. "I'll tell you about it at home."

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving his brother as they left the field. Even if everything was okay, it didn't mean he didn't worry.

 

Later, they would look through the packet of housing ads, sent by a friend of Sam's, circling ones to try when they got to Palo Alto. As they were browsing through the Little Nickel, Dean glanced up at his brother who was reading the description of an apartment intently. Dean smiled as Sam's hair fell into his eyes for the hundredth time that day, reaching over to brush the long strands out of his eyes.

"You decide when we're gonna tell Aunt Kathleen?" he asked when Sam glanced up at his touch.

Sam shrugged. "When we're ready to leave, I guess. I mean, she can't stop us, can she?"

Not this time, Dean thought, remembering his plans to leave when he turned 18, to take Sammy and find a place where they could be happy. Remembering his Aunt's threats. "Not if you're out of high school."

Sam nodded, looking back down at the papers. "I graduate next week, so whenever you want. The fire department said they'd take you as soon as you got out there, didn't they?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. We're lucky my instructor sent those letters of recommendation."

Sam laughed, flashing him a grin. "I still think they'd have jumped for you without it, man."

Dean only shook his head, grinning. Both of them tensed when they heard their Aunt yelling for them, the papers stuffed back into the envelope and shoved under Dean's pillow. Their Aunt rarely entered their room, but neither wanted to tip their hand before they'd planned.

 

Two days before Sam's graduation, he cornered Dean as he came in from a run. "You got one too, didn't you?"

Dean blinked at Sam, not quite sure what he was talking about until he saw the envelope clutched in his hand. After a long, silent moment, he nodded. "Yeah."

Sam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Dean shrugged, brushing past Sam and heading up stairs towards their room. "What's to tell? Got a letter from him, full of shit and lies. You didn't need to know."

"And when I got this, you were just gonna pretend yours never happened?" Sam asked, his voice tight. There wasn't anger in it though.

Dean sighed. "No, I was gonna tell you the truth. I just-" he paused, trying to find the right way to say what he was trying to get across. "I hoped he would take the hint, when I never replied, and just leave us alone. Leave you alone."

Sam stared at him for a long time. "Oh."

"Yeah." Dean gave him a small smile, and Sam returned it.

 

The fight about Sam and Dean leaving was longer, louder and far more intense than Dean had thought it would be. If it had just been him, Dean figured that his Aunt would have shrugged and told him not to let the door hit him on the ass as he left, given him a twenty for gas to get him as far away as possible, and then never thought of him again. He wasn't quite sure what it was about Sam that his Aunt wanted to keep close, but something in her gaze as she fought Sam's leaving held fear and that worried Dean.

After a while Sam snarled something and left the room, leaving Dean to finish the fight. His Aunt looked somewhat heartbroken as Sam left the room, and Dean wondered if under all the years of inattention she really did care about his little brother.

"Look. We're going. He'll probably stay in touch, if you let him go, but…" Dean trailed off. They both knew where this was going and how it would end; it was just a matter of them fighting, again, for what Dean hoped was the last time.

His Aunt sighed. "I know Dean. I just – I can't keep him away, if Sam leaves."

Dean froze. "Him?" he asked, but he already knew.

"Your father. I've done everything I can to keep him away from you two. Once you leave, I can't do anything anymore," she told him, regret coloring her words.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. "Look, I know you care about Sam and you worry about our Dad and all but – Sam and I – we can take care of it. I promise."

"Dean, your Dad is crazy. You can't reason with him, can't just tell him to leave Sam alone. He's been trying to get to you two for years and-"

"I know, Aunt Kathleen. Believe me, I know."

His Aunt stared at him. "Oh God. How – I mean, what-"

"Letters. We haven't responded. We don't plan to," Dean told her, the meaning clear. They had no plans to go to their father.

"I – okay. Just. Keep in touch. Please. Both of you." His Aunt reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. It was the most comforting gesture Dean could ever remember from her, and something in Dean wondered why it took them leaving for it to come out.

"We will," he promised her. He didn't know if they'd keep the promise though.

 

They left two weeks after Dean and their Aunt came to a truce. They packed up everything in his little pick-up, taking off for Palo Alto and Stanford and their new life. Their father would not mess up their new life, Sam's full ride to Stanford and Dean's job as an EMT with the fire department.

Nothing would.

  



End file.
